


Stars Wheel in Purple

by stelian



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Homesickness, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Platonic Cuddling, Scars, Sharing a Bed, Sleep Deprivation, Trans Female Pidge | Katie Holt, Trans Shiro (Voltron), all ships are very mild and can be read as platonic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-07 11:49:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10359744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stelian/pseuds/stelian
Summary: Team Voltron faces one too many sleepless nights, and it's starting to take a toll unless a solution is found, fast. Fortunately, some of them are already a little codependent.or, everyone has terrible sleep habits: the fic





	1. Chapter 1

It’s an arrangement that begins out of necessity, really.

Sleep deprivation is always bad. When it comes after staying up all night studying for an exam and brings blurry-eyes and a fuzzy mind, it’s a distraction. When it comes from late nights talking and watching old, terrible movies as some strange form of “bonding”, it’s an inconvenience. When it comes from sleeping in two-hours shifts as part of a desperate effort to keep a little box hurtling towards the right planet, it’s a necessary sacrifice.

But when it comes from debilitating nightmares and slows your critical-thinking and reaction time, causing you to make a wrong call or take a hit you had plenty of time to dodge, it’s dangerous.

“This has to change,” Allura says one night when they meet on the bridge as usual. Alteans don’t develop under-eye bags, but the little pink marks on her cheeks are dimmer and there’s a heaviness to her shoulders that worsens when they meet for days consecutively. “After what just happened.”

( _What just happened_ means their most recent fight; she’d tried to open a wormhole, overstrained herself, and passed out, leaving them stuck against a fleet of fighters too numerous to fight. And then Shiro had tried to take out a grouping but he missed and the tight curve made his vision swim and his head grow heavy, and now Hunk- and the Yellow Lion- are still recovering, and they _should not be_.)

Shiro says nothing but nods anyway, imagining door locks to keep him from roaming or some sort of sleep aid that would flood his mind with _restrained, restrained, restrained_ ; but, as unappealing as either option sounds, he knows something needs to change.

But Allura takes his hand ( _not_  my  _hand,_  some part of him says), gently pulls him up, and leads him down an unfamiliar corridor. Soon, she triggers a door, and for a moment he wonders why she’s led him to a room that’s obviously inhabited, with a large bed and pillows that look recently slept on, and then he can feel the flush starting on his face.

“Princess, I’m sorry, but I-”

“I mean nothing forward,” she says, stepping inside. “I just thought that, for both of us, it would be beneficial to not be alone. If you don’t want this, feel free to say so.”

“No, I do, but I don’t know if it’s safe.”

She sits on her bed and looks up at him, inquisitive, while some of her mice scurry up her shoulders. “Why do you say that?”

As an answer, he simply extends the metal arm in front of him. Her confusion doesn’t seem to settle, so he says, “I still don’t know all of what this does, and we both know it doesn’t come off. Plus, I get nightmares, and if I wake up and don’t know where I am…”

“Would you willingly hurt me?”

What kind of question is that? “What, no?”

“That’s all I need to know. I’m not scared of your arm because I know _you_.” She gestures for him to join her, and, quietly, he sinks onto the bed beside her. It’s soft, far too soft for him to be able to sleep; still, he can humor her and try anyway. “Is there anything you’re uncomfortable with?”

“What?” he says again.

“I mean, when it comes to contact. My bed is large, but I cannot guarantee us avoiding each other. Is there anything I should make sure to avoid at all costs?”

The thought of being touched while asleep isn’t exactly appealing to Shiro; however,  he remembers it’s Allura, who he knows would never hurt him. “Just the arm. Not only the metal part, the whole thing. Other than that… I’ll let you know.” He looks at her, then, the tiredness in her usually vibrant eyes especially apparent. “Is there anything I should avoid for you?”

She smiles, then, tucking a strand of hair back into the braids she usually sleeps in. “No, I’m fine. I appreciate you asking, though.” With that, she glances at the clock on the wall, markings still indecipherable to him despite months in space. “Well, shall we try this?”

“I suppose,” he says, laying down beside her but leaving substantial space between them. He doesn’t sleep, not really; he drifts close at points and maybe falls into a half-sleep for an hour or so, but he was correct in thinking the bed is too soft for that. But he doesn’t suffer any nightmares, and if the anxiety starts to creep in he can listen to Allura’s breathing beside him and tells himself he’s safe.

For once, he believes it.

* * *

So it becomes a routine. It isn’t every night, and it isn’t always the full night; sometimes they’ll give an unspoken agreement during meals, sometimes Shiro will show up at her door partway through the night, and sometimes they’ll meet up at their usual spot and decide to move it to her room.

The beauty of it comes when the both of them can actually sleep, and she’ll awaken from a nightmare of her planet being destroyed with a sharp cry and he can be there for her, wrap his arm around her shoulders and whisper that she’s here, that she’s following her father’s legacy, that she’s saving people everywhere. And then he’ll wake up with a shout, muscles tensing for a threat that’s not there (not in the present, at least), and she’ll rub circles on his shoulder and tell him he’s safe, that he escaped, that he’s stronger than he realizes.

It works, even though sometimes Hunk will catch them leaving her room together and raise an eyebrow but fail to comment otherwise. They’re both sleeping far more, and it’s incredibly beneficial to the team.

* * *

When they find Matt, he worms his way into the arrangement.

Allura doesn’t have a point of comparison for him before, besides what she’s heard from Pidge, in order to make an accurate comparison for how he’s changed, but she can see the resonance between him and Shiro. Of course, she doesn’t miss how he stumbles out of the cryopod on one leg or how, despite being liberated from the Galra for weeks, his ribs feature prominently through the thin suit.

For a few days afterwards Shiro doesn’t come to her room at all; instead, he finds himself huddled on the floor with Matt, both of them well-accustomed to nightmares and troubles sleeping. It’s reminiscent of their first few days of captivity, after Matt had screamed himself raw as he watched his father get dragged away. They had been each other’s sole anchor to Earth, and that wasn’t something they were going to let go.

Shiro doesn’t sleep through the night once during these nights; for one, he’s gotten sort of used to the feeling of a mattress instead of hard floor, and second, it’s just like sleeping with Allura except Matt’s panic attacks are higher in frequency and intensity and often drag him down alongside him. It’s a vicious cycle, neither of them are sleeping, and Shiro can see the marks under Allura’s eyes fading again to know something has to be done.

So he proposes the idea to Allura first; after all, the first time was her idea. She agrees with only slight hesitation. Matt takes a bit more convincing, but he eventually agrees as well.

The two of them stumble into Allura’s room on the night they agreed, Matt voicing his concerns the whole way there. “What if I wake her up? I mean, I can wake _you_ up, that’s fine, but she’s a princess and kind of terrifying. I can’t do that. She’d probably smite me or something!”

“She wouldn’t _smite_ you. Maybe beat you up, but I don’t think she can smite,” Shiro says with a bit of a smile. It’s good to know that Matt’s rambling hasn’t changed, even if the anxiety drips in a little stronger than it used to. It’s the little things that give him hope.

Allura beckons them in with a smile and a wave. “I’m glad you came along. Shiro and I have found this very beneficial in the past, and I’m happy you decided to extend the invitation.”

Matt sits down on the bed first, startling at the softness of the mattress. “You were right. This really _is_ soft.” She flashes a concerned look, but Shiro just shakes his head at her before she can ask. Sleeping on the floor for a year can really mess with your perception of texture, after all.

Shiro and Allura sit on either side of him, close but not _too_ close. “Are you made uncomfortable by anything?” she asks, just like his first night.

Matt looks at her in confusion, but Shiro breaks in with, “She means when it comes to contact. You know, anything that would deeply upset you if it were accidentally touched.” He gives him a smile, then, and adds, “I was confused too, the first time she asked.”

“Oh, that makes sense. Well…” He starts pulling at the straps on his leg, undoing them slowly as he thinks. “My back, probably. I can talk about why some other day, just, um... not today. Other than that, I should be good.”

“Duly noted,” Allura says, and then she lays back.

* * *

The arrangement with three people is a bit more strained than with two. For one, Allura’s bed is _big_ , but not quite enough for three people to each have their own space. It’s not an issue for Matt and Shiro, who are so used to sharing space after months on a cramped shuttle and then the huddling that’s occurred since, but it takes a long time for Matt to be comfortable enough around Allura to not be terrified to accidentally reach out to her while asleep.

There’s also the issues with the frequency and intensity of some of Matt’s nightmares, which usually drag Shiro along with him; on bad days, Allura succumbs as well. Even though she only spent a brief amount of time in the underbelly of a Galra ship she can relate to the fear, to the uncertainty of a future, to the isolation and alienation that haunts them. Several times it’s resorted to all three of them being stuck somewhere not quite real, anxiety clouding their vision and halting their breath.

But other days it works well and they sleep through the night, albeit with a few stiff muscles in the morning from the contortion involved. Besides, there’s something to be said about all panicking together rather than alone.

Either way, there are interesting conversations.

* * *

“Hang on, let me get my leg off. Just because _your_ limb doesn’t come off doesn’t mean that we’re all that way.”

Matt’s not excited, not really. Scar Nights, as they’ve come to be called, are far from fun; actually, they can be downright painful at times. But there’s a sort of relief in talking about some of the parts of his body he can’t change, and there’s also the inevitable touching involved that can feel good. _Maybe I_ am _a little touch-starved_ , he thinks, although he’ll never admit to Katie that she was right.

He doesn’t hesitate to pull his shirt off anymore. The first time they did this he was terrified, but it was the easiest way to explain the scars that knotted his back without speaking much. After all, the warden at his camp would always tell him how he needed to talk less as she broke out that electrified whip she was so fond of. And then Shiro had showed him the slim scar on the back of his neck where he’d been hit with a similar weapon, and thus Scar Night began.

“I thought you’d be faster at this. How long have you had that thing, again?” Shiro says from the bed, an easy grin on his face. He stretches out in the center of Allura’s bed, back propped up by pillows. It’s far more at ease than he’d been for a long time, Matt realizes.

“I did _not_ ask for your sass, thank you very much.” With one final tug Matt frees the thing, and he promptly hits Shiro’s feet with it. A small act of revenge, but he’ll take it nonetheless.

It’s Shiro’s turn to take the center so Matt settles down beside him, allowing one of the mice to climb onto his shoulder.

“Who’s first?” Allura asks, hugging a pillow to her chest.

“Since I was just being harassed, so I think I should,” Matt says, and Allura groans while Shiro just laughs. Neither of them protest his claim, so he just looks between the two of them and eventually settles on pointing to a small mark on Allura’s shoulder. “That one.”

“Oh, that?” she says, tilting her head to look at it. She smiles, then, a bright and unrestrained one. “That was the Gladiator.”

“Are you saying you lost to it?” Shiro says, clearly choking back a laugh.

“No, I won, thank you very much, but I will admit it wasn’t by much. Father forbade me from entering the training rooms until he thought I was old enough, but I wanted to prove that I could do it. So I stole Zarkon’s access card and snuck in while they were at a meeting.”

“Wait, wait, hold up, you stole from _Zarkon_?” Matt says, and then there’s no holding in the laughs from both him and Shiro. Even Allura can’t restrain herself for a moment. “You’ve got to be the only person in history to be able to say that.”

“It was-” Allura starts, but she gets caught up laughing for a moment- “It was between him and Coran, and I was _terrified_ of Coran until I was older. Eventually Mother realized she couldn’t find me and she thought I was with Father, and they tore apart the whole castle trying to find me. Eventually it was Coran, of course, who found me covered in blood and with pieces of Gladiator all around me. Father couldn’t decide if he was proud of me or angry at me.”

For a moment the room is full of giggles again. There’s something inherently amusing about big, strong Allura taking down the Gladiator while a fraction of its size just because she was told _not_ to. Also, Zarkon.

“I still can’t believe you stole from Zarkon,” Matt says.

“He and Father were close friends for a long time. I actually saw a lot of him when I was younger, and he was always good with me. And then…” She trails off, and the room is silent. _And then he destroyed my planet and tortured and enslaved two thirds of this room_.

Shiro breaks the silence after a few moments. “My turn. We’ll do that one,” he says, jabbing Matt in the side.

“Oh, that’s not fair, you _know_ where that one’s from.”

“Yeah, but Allura doesn’t, and I want you to try to explain that.”

“Fine, you ass.” He looks up, fixes his gaze on Allura and says, as slow and dramatic as possible, “I had an organ removed from here, once.”

Her eyes blow wide and she says, “Oh my, I’m so sorry! That’s awful, I can’t believe they did that to you.”

Beside him Shiro starts to giggle again, and Matt just frowns at him with a shake of his head. “I don’t understand how you can laugh at this. This is _serious_ , man. I don't see how you can find anything funny about this situation.”

“Was it anything vital?” Allura asks, still concerned.

Matt glares at Shiro again before he says, “It was. It was an integral organ called the appendix… now, I’ll never properly live again. It’s a sad situation, but I suppose I’ll survive.”

Allura nods, eyes still wide with sympathy, but then they suddenly narrow. “Wait. I remember that word.” She pauses and thinks for a moment and then says, “The appendix is useless. You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not! Shiro, back me up!”

Shiro just shrugs.

“Okay, he’s just not backing me up because he’s a physics guy and knows nothing about biology. But I’ll have you know, millennia ago the appendix was _probably_ vital to life, and- How did you know that, anyway?”

All she says is, “Lance.”

Of course.

“They were mapping the human body once. It was pretty cool, actually. Did you know that you and your sister are the only two people on this ship without an appendix?” Shiro says, and Matt once again reaches for his leg to hit him. Although, Matt _does_ have to admit that sounds pretty impressive. He’d love to take a look at some point, see what insight he could provide.

“Is it my turn now?” Allura asks, and the two of them both nod. “Hm.” She hesitates, looking over Shiro.

After the first Scar Night, they’d decided on a few scars that were off limits. Allura’s is on her side; when asked, all she said was that it related to her mother’s death and she didn’t want to say anything else. Matt declared his leg off limits, as well as the scars on his back. And for Shiro it’s the Y-shaped scar running down his torso (although the origin of that one is plainly obvious and they wouldn’t need to ask about it anyway).

Eventually, she settles on the two symmetrical scars running just under his pectorals. “Do you remember these?” she asks. (For a lot of Shiro’s scars the answer is ‘no’, although he can usually come up with _something_ , even if it’s what he had to eat the morning before he got it.)

Shiro’s breath jumps, just a little, and he says, “Yes, I do.” At the first sign of trouble Allura pulls her hand back and Matt leans over, ready to work on Operation Keep Shiro Out Of A Panic Attack, Number Infinity. But he just shakes his head and says, “No, it’s fine. They’re not from the ship.”

Matt catches on after a moment. It wasn’t something Shiro talked about often, although it wasn’t like he _hid_ the fact that he was trans. It was more like he only mentioned it when he felt it was necessary, which was fairly infrequently.

“Is is another vestigial organ?” Allura asks, concern still dripping from her voice.

“Uh, no. Not really. Well, sort of?” He looks to Matt to finish.

“Definitely not. Do you even know the definition of vestigial?” Shiro just gives him an eyebrow raise, so Matt continues, “I mean, it _is_ useless for part of the population. Especially in Shiro’s case.”

She still looks confused, so Shiro says, “I’ve told you that humans keep a strict gender binary, right?”

“You and Pidge both, yes. Although I don’t understand what that has to do with surgical removal of an organ.”

“Well, technically it’s not an organ and more just a certain type of tissue-” Matt interjects, but he stops fairly quickly. “Sorry. Carry on.”

“Anyway, if you don’t agree with the gender you were assigned at birth, there are certain… steps you can take. Surgery is one of them.” Shiro hesitates, then says, “I was like that. My body didn’t match my gender, so I had some of the tissue removed that’s associated with the wrong gender.”

Allura still looks confused for a moment, although after a moment she nods. “Oh, I understand now. I’m sorry that’s something you humans have to deal with, although I assure you that doesn’t make you any less of a man.”

“I know,” Shiro says, and he gives her another smile. “But it’s good to hear from you anyway.”

Matt yawns, and the mouse on his shoulder echoes him. “Well, that was an emotional rollercoaster. Are you guys ready to sleep, because I sure am.”

“Yes, I’d agree with that,” Allura says, settling down. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Shiro echoes. The three of them sort of curl together, the distance between them gone emotionally and physically. Being together provides a sort of comfort they can’t find on their own, as well as an overwhelming reminder that they aren’t alone, even though space seems impossibly vast.

 

It turns out that there are good things to be found in space after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lance, hunk, and keith are all suffering a little bit, but at least they aren't suffering alone

 

For Lance and Hunk, it starts out of convenience.

Lance is used to sharing a room with his younger brother, who was prone to nightmares and often only felt comfortable when curled up at his side. So, suddenly sharing a room with a large boy slightly older than himself is an adjustment, as is the emptiness in the bed beside him. He can sleep alone, sure, but he feels as though he can’t protect Markos when he’s halfway across the country. And if he’s not protecting his family, what’s he there for?

With Hunk, it’s the lack of familiarity. He’s used to his little house near the beach where his little sister could scare them to death when she’d run out at night and dip her toes in the ocean, his Tina would sing at night while Mom looked at her, only the moon brighter than her eyes and, no matter how awful he’d feel, his grandmother would be there to talk him down. Here, in a desert, with land surrounding him, everything feels strange and foreign and it sets him off.

By the time Hunk is enrolled at the Garrison he’s a professional at panic attacks, really; they come so frequently that they  _ almost  _ don’t bother him anymore. At home, he has his grandmother, Lelei, and, for the worst ones, the ocean. Here, all he has is his medication and a stuffed dolphin he sometimes clutches when it gets bad.

So it shouldn’t be surprising when, in his second week at the Garrison, he tries to sleep but can’t slow the way his heart pounds, can’t quite breathe right, can’t shake the feeling that he shouldn’t be here,  _ can’t  _ be here. He walks to the bathroom, splashes water on his face, runs through counting exercises, but nothing quite works. Eventually he settles back on the bunk that’s not quite big enough for him, curls up on his side, faces the wall, and hugs the stupid little dolphin close to his chest and prays that Lance’s headphones are enough to block out the sound of his breathing.

They aren’t.

It doesn’t take long for him to feel someone poke him on the side, and Hunk almost startles out of bed before he realizes it’s Lance. 

“Hey,” Lance says, smiling a little bit. It may be a trick of the low light, but his smile seems softer than usual. “I see you’re having some trouble.”

“You could say that,” he forces out between shaky breaths.

“My brother used to get like this. I mean, I have too, don’t get me wrong, but I’m pretty good at helping him out. Do you want me to try?”

“Uh, sure?”  
Lance grins, then, a little similar to the manic smiles he throws during simulations (usually right before he wrecks it, but that’s beside the point). “Can I climb up here?”

He won’t fit and they both know it, but Hunk nods anyway. Lance tries anyway, fitting himself beside Hunk and throwing an arm across his stomach, contorting himself a bit on his side to keep from falling off the bed. Under his breath, he hums a faint tune that he can’t quite place, and starts rubbing small circles on Hunk’s neck with his free arm.

It’s not like that instantly cures Hunk’s anxiety, but it does help to have someone so close and obviously trying to help him. He’s not aware of drifting off to sleep, but one minute he’s awake in the dark; the next, the room is filled with light and his alarm’s blaring. Lance pulls himself up before Hunk’s even fully awake, his tired eyes a glaring sign he didn’t sleep at all.

“Oh, shit, I probably kept you awake all night!” he says, but Lance just waves him away with a yawn.

“You’re good. Besides, this just means I’ll have to skip class to take a nap. Now go to breakfast. I’ll catch you sometime later.” Reluctantly, Hunk goes.

He makes it up to him a few weeks later, when Lance receives a letter from home mentioning that one of his brothers is sick. He falls asleep before Hunk does, an unusual event. Hunk is bent over his desk, stressing over an exam for the next morning, but soon starts hearing a soft whimpering. He leaves it go for a moment but the sounds only get worse, so walks over as lightly as possible. It’s not a good idea to wake someone in the middle of a nightmare sometimes, he knows; when Lelei’s nightmares get bad they just have to listen to the sounds she makes because startling her can make her hurt herself or someone else. 

But after a few minutes he can’t take it, and he starts to gently shake Lance awake. He’s a light sleeper by nature so it doesn’t take much, but when he does arise he shouts, “Markos!” and slumps against Hunk, crying into his neck.

“Uh, Lance, you know who I am, right?”

Lance looks up then, sees it’s Hunk, and instantly jerks back. “Sorry, I… thought you were my brother. I mean, he’s a lot smaller than you are, but I guess maybe he’s grown?” He shrugs, trying to make it into a joke, but it falls quite a bit short.

“Look, you had a nightmare. You don’t need to hide that. Markos is the one you’re really close to, right?”

Lance pulls his legs up, sitting cross-legged. “Yeah, we’ve shared a room since he was born. He’s kind of sickly, and we don’t always have a lot of money, so I worry about it. I just feel like there’s nothing I can do for him anymore because, you know, I’m across the country.”

“I know how you feel,” Hunk says, pulling himself up. “Um, do you want me to…join you?” He thinks about his words a second later, and then adds an eyebrow wiggle. “I mean, you know what I mean.”

“Sure,” Lance says, pulling himself closer to the wall. “I used to always sleep with Markos when he got nightmares, so it’s sort of weird for me to have my own bed anyway. I’ll just… make sure I wear my headphones this time. No offense.”

“No, you’re good. I know I snore.”

The position’s a little easier this time, with Hunk on his back and Lance sort of curled up beside him. They still barely fit, but it’s a good thing Lance’s body resembles a beanpole because it means he can wedge into the space between Hunk and the wall. 

It becomes a frequent routine between them; certainly when one has a panic attack or a nightmare they’ll throw their mattresses on the floor and huddle together. Sometimes before a stressful exam they’ll do it as well, just as a preventative measure.

And then, in space, when everything’s different and they’re suddenly heroes (or supposed to be), it stops briefly until after they’re rescued from the water planet and Hunk’s still freaking out over hurting Lance, and without realizing it he finds himself at his door. “I can’t sleep,” he says, and Lance just gives him a look of sympathy.

“Me neither,” he says, and they get the best night of sleep they’ve for weeks.

* * *

For Hunk and Keith, it starts by accident.

It’s after the castle is invaded ( _ corrupted, actually;  _ Pidge tells him about the purple lights and the overwhelming feeling of Galra around them). Pidge retreated to her lab to study the crystal, Allura and Coran went to sleep off a difficult day, Keith took Shiro to his room to at least  _ try  _ to get him to rest, and Lance floats safely in a cryopod.

_ Hopefully  _ safely. Hunk sits in front of him, staring up at the unnatural pallor on his face. He doesn’t understand the technology, and if there’s one thing Hunk fears, it’s the unknown. All he knows is Lance was hurt and apparently this is supposed to help him.

Supposed to.

“Please be okay,” he says, even though he knows he can’t hear him. He doesn’t know what he’d do without Lance.

He hears the doors slide open and, without realizing it, jumps to his feet and reaches for the bayard that isn’t on his waist, not in his pajamas. Still, he’s ready to fend off the invader… until they step forward and he sees that awful mullet. “Oh, Keith. I thought you were Sendak, back for revenge.”

“Nah. Just me,” Keith says, standing behind him and crossing his arms. 

“Did you get your brother to sleep?” Hunk says as he turns back around, sitting back down and staring up at Lance again. Shiro hadn’t been in great shape when he’d arrived; nothing life-threatening, but definitely not  _ good _ . 

Keith sighs. “I think. At the very least, I got him to lay down. That’s probably the best I could get, considering.”

Hunk looks over his shoulder and he’s still standing there, in the exact same position with his knees locked. “You can sit with me, if you’d like. There’s plenty of room on the floor here.”

He doesn’t come over right away; the conflict is evident in his eyes. But after a moment he steps forward, sitting down a short distance away from Hunk. “How did you and Lance know each other?” he says after a bit of silence.

“Roommates,” Hunk says, and in his mind Lance says  _ ‘The world’s best roommates, the power team of the Garrison, Super-Lance And His Hunk Sidekick (get it, because he’s Hunk and he’s a hunk)’ _ . “We’ve, uh… spent a lot of time together.” He wonders why Keith asks, but figures it’s just trying to fill the overwhelming silence besides the quiet buzz of the cryopod. “Are you guys actually brothers?” 

“No, but we may as well be. I think his mom tried to adopt me a few times.” Keith gives what might be the Keith version of a laugh, which is sort of a short exhale of breath with only a hint of a vocalization behind it. “We’re just… good friends, I guess.”

“I see,” Hunk says, and then he catches the way Keith stares at Lance and he says, “You know he doesn’t hate you, right?”

“What?”

“Lance. You know. He actually kind of admires you. It might not seem like it, but he really does.”

“Huh,” Keith says, and then doesn’t say anything else. They sit in silence for a few moments, long enough for the motion-activated lights to dim. With the (almost) harsh blue lights out, the only lighting is a faint glow from the healing pod. It’s uncomfortable, to stare at Lance like this. It’s quiet without him, when Hunk had become accustomed to his energy and constant stream of words. 

This whole situation is a frightening reminder of the fact that they are all very frail humans fighting a huge, ancient army. They don’t stand a chance.

_ Bad thoughts. Get rid of them.  _

He looks over at Keith, who sits with his shoulders slumped forward, arms awkward but not crossed. A few seconds later Hunk recognizes the tension in his back and the stiffness normally in his posture, and an excellent distraction comes to mind. 

“Hey, Keith, does your back hurt?” he asks, and Keith startles a bit. He looks at Hunk, head tilted and brows drawn together. 

“Uh, a little bit?” He suspects he’s downplaying it, but he’ll take that. “Why?”

“Because I’m sitting here stressing out, we have nothing to do for a long time, you have weird posture and are super flexible, and I give amazing massages. Are those enough reasons?”

Keith stares at him for a long time, blank, and then says, “I guess?”

Hunk scooches closer, sitting cross-legged behind Keith. When he first starts feeling through the tightly coiled muscles around his shoulder Keith tenses; after all, he never was one for touch. But then he digs his thumb into a spot just inside his shoulder blade, and Keith  _ melts _ .

He wasn’t lying when he said he gave excellent massages. After Hunk’s sister dislocated her shoulder for the third time, she started to develop debilitating knots in her shoulders-- the grinding sounds when she rolled them were  _ disgusting.  _ And although Keith isn’t overly flexible in the way she was (or Shiro could be, sometimes; he’d certainly shrugged off a few minor dislocations during training and his elbows probably  _ shouldn’t  _ bend that far), he certainly uses his arms enough and seems to be physically opposed to stretching before exercise.

Hunk focuses on his breathing and the collection of tight muscles in front of him, not the fact that Lance almost died, the castle was almost taken over, that on some Balmera not too far away  _ something  _ is happening to Shay. Lost in his thoughts, he jumps a bit when most of Keith’s weight suddenly slumps against him. He’d suspected that his sleep schedule was messed up so it isn’t surprising, per se; more so, he’s glad that he relaxed the ever-tough Keith enough to fall asleep.

Gingerly, Hunk maneuvers him to be lying down, not wanting to waste all of the work he’d just done on his back. Settling down nearby, he waits again but soon finds his eyelids growing far too heavy.

* * *

 

(It’s a small victory when, a few weeks later, Keith approaches Hunk after training and asks him to ‘do the thing on his back again’.)   


 

* * *

 

When they find the Black Lion empty, Keith  _ breaks _ .

It starts with vicious denial. Every so often one can hear him mutter under his breath, “He can’t be gone. Not again. He’s here, somewhere, he didn’t go anywhere, he’s  _ not gone _ .” It’s almost a mantra for him, for a few days.

And then there’s the guilt, where he thinks it’s  _ his  _ fault, where he asks everyone what he did wrong and why this happened. Hunk almost thinks that he’s seeing a textbook example of the seven stages of grief (although perhaps grief isn’t the right word, when the person you’re mourning is  maybe not dead) when Keith reaches the stages of anger and depression and violently cycles between the two.

He trains harder, he tries bonding with the Black Lion (who’s unresponsive; she’ll activate for Allura but it’s as if there’s little left to her), he sleeps less and less and eats almost nothing.

And it isn’t just Keith.

Losing Shiro is like breaking the small sliver of normalcy that everyone’s held onto. Pidge retreats to her room, furiously searching for signals or coordinates or  _ something  _ to find her brother or her father. Talking to her is nearly impossible; she shuts down at the slightest conversation.

Lance gets more confident and loud, which means he’s feeling incredibly shitty and insecure but, of course, can’t voice that to anyone. Even for Hunk it’s almost impossible to be around him.

Allura drives them harder, snaps at them more often. She isn’t sleeping either, and it’s obvious; more than once, Hunk has found her slumped over the console, half-asleep. And Coran tries to keep them together, he really does; it’s that leftover paternal instinct from ten thousand years ago. But there’s only so much he can do.

So Hunk takes matters into his own hands.

* * *

“So, Lance and I have been having a hard time sleeping lately, which means we’ve been sleeping  _ together  _ because, you know, nothing’s more relaxing than trying to cram two people into a tiny bunk. It sounds bad, but it works. Trust me.”

Keith doesn’t respond. He just stands there, sword still in hand, sweat trickling down his forehead. Somewhere behind him the gladiator drone twitches, a current running through the wiring he’d just torn straight through.

“Okay, so what I was getting at is, it’s a good way to relieve some stress. And we’re inviting you to join us. Because you need sleep.”

A flush spreads across Keith’s cheeks, and he avoids meeting Hunk’s eyes as he says, “I… no thanks?” Okay, Hunk will give that that was badly phrased. 

“Sorry, that was awkward. I mean, we literally sleep together. Share a bed and everything. It doesn’t need to mean anything. We’re just… we’re worried about you, man. This isn’t healthy.”

“Really. I hadn’t noticed,” Keith says, starting to turn back around and restart the training sequence. Hunk stops him with a hand on his shoulder, causing him to visibly flinch. “Hunk, I don’t know what your issue is. This is my problem, I can solve it however I want.”

Hoo boy. He doesn’t even know where to start with that. “Keith, you’re sort of in charge by default because you know what you’re doing a little more than the rest of us. Pidge and Lance look up to you- you may not believe it, but they do. We’re a family, and you’re not the only one suffering right now. Believe me, we all can tell that you never sleep and you never eat anymore. We tolerated it for too long with your brother and, I’ll be honest, I’m  _ sick  _ of it. You can’t keep acting like you’re fine and you can keep doing this to yourself because, guess what? It hurts everyone else when you’re hurting.”

Keith says nothing and just stares at him.

“So you’re going to cuddle with Lance and I tonight because, goddamnit, you need it and so do we.”

He just blinks, extremely slowly.

“Unless that’s completely out of your comfort zone, I know you can get a little weird with touch sometimes.”

Keith is blank for a few more minutes, and Hunk can practically see the pop-up box saying _keith.exe has stopped working_. But then he takes in a deep breath, retracts his bayard, and says, “Fine. I’ll do it. Just, uh, let me shower first.”  
In response, Hunk smiles and hugs him- not the bone-crushing hug, Keith’s a little too sweaty for that- but tight enough that it’s a Certified Hunk Hug. “Hey, I’m proud of you. Sorry that took a lot of nagging, but I am worried about you. I just want you to be able to relax for a night.” He doesn’t respond to that but also doesn’t pull away, which is a good sign.

When Hunk gets back to his room Lance is already there, his mattress thrown on the floor. He’s bundled up in a couple of blankets, face mask already applied. Even though the heat’s turned up as high as it can go his room is still cold sometimes. “Did you get him?” he asks, putting down the (terrible) romance novel he’d been reading.

“Reluctantly, but yes. He’s currently showering.” Two different expressions cross Lance’s face within a few seconds; first, excitement, and then a faint nervousness that quickly works its way to his twitching fingers instead. Lance has been bothering Hunk about asking Keith to join them for weeks, and it just worked out that Shiro’s disappearance was a good impetus to finally do it.

Keith walks in a few minutes later, hair tied back and dressed in his famous black t-shirt and gray sweatpants. He stands in the doorway, unsure, before Hunk waves him forward. “I kind of forgot to tell you to bring your mattress along. You can get it if you want, or we can just try to fit on two. Whatever’s best for you.”

He stays frozen for a moment, and then steps forward. “We can make it work, if that’s okay? My legs are kind of sore.”

At that moment Lance pops out from under a pile of blankets. “Keeeeeith!” he says, awfully reminiscent of a kitten. “I’m so glad you’re joining us!” It’s hard to tell in the lighting, but Keith may or may not flush a little bit. Either way the sight is adorable.

“Since you’re our guest, you can figure out where you want to go. I can figure something out as long as there’s room.”

It takes Keith a moment, but eventually he crosses the rest of the way to the two mattresses crammed against the wall. He settles down on the edge of the one on the outside, position soldier-like with his legs locked together. That won’t do, Hunk thinks, but he’ll give him a moment. Lance is curled up against the wall, his usual position. He settles between them, back dipping awkwardly between the two mattresses. He’ll regret it in the morning, sure, but it’s far from the worst place he’d ever fallen asleep.

There’s silence for a while, then Hunk asks, “Is it okay if I pet your hair? It seems really fluffy.” Keith doesn’t say anything, just makes a soft noise of consent. He puts one hand in his hair and wraps the other one around Lance. Again, the position is almost uncomfortable, but worth it for the way Lance curls closer to him and Keith’s tension seems to partially melt away.

“I’m glad you could join us,” Lance says again, half-muffled by Hunk. “This is helpful for when we’re not feeling well. I figured- well, we both figured, but it was mostly me- that it might help. You’ve been a bit scary.” Keith doesn’t respond at first, he just makes a soft hum again. There’s a sleepy silence, then; no one’s asleep, but they’re all certainly close.

“Lance,” Keith says, after a few minutes. Lance looks up from where he’s tucked against Hunk’s arm, grunting softly. “I just… I heard about how you’ve been feeling.”

“Hm?” he says, blinking sleep from his eyes.

“From Pidge. After the Beta Traz mission.”

“Mmm.”

“I just wanted to say that that isn’t true. You’re important, we need you, and- and you’re appreciated, you belong here, and we couldn’t function without you. And you’re- you’re good to be around.”

Hunk looks over at Lance, who looks only slightly more awake now. “What’s he referring to?”

Lance yawns, rubbing at his eyes. “I called myself a fifth wheel. Or a seventh wheel. Either way, a bad wheel. But it’s fine. Thanks, Keith. It means a lot to hear that.”

But Keith isn’t done. “And Hunk, you’re probably the most fundamentally good out of all of us. You’re so kind, and so strong, and you’re always there and reliable and-  _ god _ , I don’t know if I’d be able to function without you. Just… thank you for being you. I know I never really say stuff like that enough, but it’s always in my head and I can’t get it out.” 

Hunk hears how his voice trails off at the end, how his breaths start to hitch and, maybe, the slight hint of a sob starts in his voice. So he cuts him off. “Hey, Keith, you don’t need to apologize. This whole thing has been stressful on all of us. Don’t worry about it.”

“But-”

“But what? None of us signed up to be here. We’re all young and inexperienced and would rather be at home watching terrible sitcoms or even studying than be out there defending the universe. It’s scary, I know. But you’re doing a good job.”

Keith cries at that point. It’s not much, just a few tears here and there. He edges closer to Hunk, buries his head into his arm. 

“Hey, Keith? We appreciate you too. You’re doing a great job holding us together right now. Plus you’re mad skilled, and all that sword shit is  _ badass  _ as hell,” Lance says.

“You don’t need to worry. We’ll find your brother, we’ll find your huge Galra mom if we can- hell, we’ll find your dad and kick his ass if we need to. We’re the defenders of the universe, damnit. There’s nothing outside of our reach.” 

And Hunk’s a sympathy crier, so he starts crying too. On his other side, Lance, who’s just emotional in general, starts to cry as well. It strikes him as funny that, there they are, three boys who defeated the ruler of a huge, ten thousand year old empire, laying on two mattresses shoved together, cuddling and crying their eyes out.

But the universe is large, and it’s strange, and if they need this little comfort they’ll take it.

At some point Hunk falls asleep, which he only realizes because he suddenly finds it to be very early in the morning instead of very late at night. Lance is still curled up beside him, head buried in his shoulder. Keith sprawls out on the other side, still holding onto Hunk’s arm as if it were a tether.

When they all wake up and go to breakfast, it’s the lightest and most rested any of them have felt in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, this morning: all i want from season 3 is for keith to McFreaking Lose It and for the lance and hunk development we all deserve
> 
> and then i wrote this. it was meant to be much fluffier. oops.
> 
> in the next chapter we'll see everyone looking after Certified Baby Sister Friend Katie "Pidge" Holt

**Author's Note:**

> subtitled: LET THEM REST, PLEASE, THEY'RE ALL SO SLEEPY.
> 
> my tumblr is [pippims](http://pippims.tumblr.com) where i am always willing to yell about gay, polyamorous space children.
> 
> thanks for reading!


End file.
